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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966278">Rusty Lake: Roots; More Family Drama Than A Shakespearean Play, And Not In A Good Way, Either</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_narwhals_awaken/pseuds/The_narwhals_awaken'>The_narwhals_awaken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake: Perspective [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake | Cube Escape (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Game: Rusty Lake: Roots, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, all but two die, although william is somewhat oblivious, but that's kind of expected at this point, frank's down the well now, nobody's died yet, not by William, not really but mentioned, should i tag character death, the kids aren't all right, this is going to be a RIDE, we've got our first death people, welp, whoo boy, william's having a time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:01:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_narwhals_awaken/pseuds/The_narwhals_awaken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>William Vanderboom just wanted to live again.</p><p>Join three? four? five generations of the Vanderboom family through love, challenges, and the occasional dismemberment of both the living and the dead.  Unfortunately, there's a rather large amount of the last one- and it shows why this family is one of the more messed-up ones, despite best intentions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ida Vanderboom/Samuel Vanderboom, James Vanderboom/Mary Vanderboom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake: Perspective [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Tree.  Summer 1860</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>James Vanderboom, his uncle having recently passed away, arrived at said uncle’s house that he had inherited, carrying a suitcase he’d been delivered and followed by his uncle’s dog, both of which had also been given when he’d received the news about his uncle’s passing.  He passed through the fence and looked around, before stopping in the middle.  There was a well, still working but without a bucket.  The yard of the house was well-maintained, and signs of recent care were still there as a watering can up against the fading picket fence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out the note he’d gotten with instructions to open it once he’d gotten to the house, and unfolded it.  It read, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Dear James, I regret to inform you that your uncle has passed away.  He has left you his house and a very special seed.  Plant it and start your own family’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  In the corner was written, in what looked like another hand in a thick, bright red liquid, the numbers 572.  Turning, James flicked the dials on the suitcase, opening it to find a bone and a small box.  Pocketing the bone, James slid open the box to find a seed, already sprouted with a single leaf opened.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Passing the bone to the dog- he’d need to find a name for him if he was keeping him- James looked for something to dig a hole for the seed with, but found nothing.  However, when he turned back, he saw that the dog had dug a hole with his excitement, and so he put the seed in the hole, covering the base with the freshly-turned-over soil.  He took the watering can and filled it at the well, then watered it- and stared in amazement as the seedling sprouted and grew as the water touched the leaf.  James poured another canful of water on it to see what would happen, and it grew once more- a sturdy sapling.  James took his hat off in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the Second Plane, William chuckled faintly as he watched.  James had set the plans in motion- and eventually, he’d live once more.  The Tree marked James’ face with a white square, and he faded out.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The House. Summer 1860</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William stretched from the Second Plane, happy that his pact with the Lake had worked- the elixir was keeping, at least, his spirit in stasis until the Living members of his family had collected the sacrifices needed- and Aldous was there to help keep them alive until then.  He refocused, seemingly the evening of the day he’d left, although he was uncertain.  James was trying to get in- but the lock he and Aldous had left was slightly tricky if you didn’t know the secret.  He snapped a branch off of the Tree- a twig that shouldn’t have grown- and passed to James, along with scooting the stool a bit closer, and watched as James knocked the birds nest down from the tree, and watched the baby crow hatch.  Ah, the irony- the same animal Aldous had in part become, the same animal on their family crest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an attempt to keep the bird alive, James found a worm by the flowerpots- and incidentally, the first small gem for the lock.  Returning to the bird, James carefully fed it, letting the bird fly off- revealing the second gem.  This was odd, certainly, but the Lake wouldn’t hurt it- it liked the birds a bit too much for that to happen properly, as things died poorly by the Lake.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James walked over to the house, looking through the windows to see if he could find the third gem- after all, there were three slots on the door.  He tapped on the glass a few times in front of the last gem, when suddenly it shattered and the shadow of a figure, beaked and with one pure white eye as a contrast to its solid black figure, appeared.  It faded, the only thing visible past the dusty glass an old grandfather clock, and James took the gem, unlocking the door.  The frame appeared around the wallpaper, and William faded again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah, the chapters are going to be a bit shorter than some of my others.  Sorry if you're disappointed!  Posting schedule varies, as I haven't actually written any of this out beforehand, so it's based on 'when I get a few chapters written up'.  Let me know what you like, as well as if you'd like me to try to drop chapters regularly instead of three to five when I actually get some writing done!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Uncle.  Summer 1860</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As William faded in, his first thought was that the house had clearly shown its emptiness quickly- a faint air of dusty unuse despite the visible dust being gone now, and cobwebs in the corner that looked to be setting up shop until somebody bothered with spring cleaning.  James himself dug out an axe and some matches from the cabinet to one side, then set a fire in the fireplace, lit it, and went to sleep in the old chair neither William nor Aldous had liked- too hard for their old bones to get out again, although it was, admittedly, nice for napping.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William peeled back the picture of him and Aldous from one corner to reveal the first key so that James could get his axe, then used the firelight to dig out the second key, this one to the windows.  On the panes, now clean, were four bloody handprints.  William was taken aback, a faint flash of deja vu whispering that that was his blood, his prints on the window- but it couldn’t be, right?  He knew what he had been doing, just fading in and out to help his family and watch them grow.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaken, William turned to the puzzle box- also with prints on it, he noticed- and poked the squares in in the pattern of the prints.  Hanging inside was the golden timepiece, the one neither him nor Aldous could ever hold for longer than fifteen minutes without a feeling of creeping dread.  Carefully, he opened it, then tapped the face.  The hands spun, and William turned to set the same time on the grandfather clock.  Clock puzzles were some of his favorites, although something was whispering that he wouldn’t like what he’d find.  When the hands were aligned, something clicked, but the door didn’t swing open like it should.  William whacked it, trying to get it to work, and startled back as it opened.  The clock face fell, the door popped open, and the paper on the back was torn- the wood was also cracked and splintered.  But what really set the chills up his nonexistent spine was what fell out- his own corpse, stripped of clothing, curled and pale with death.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morbidly, William leaned closer, then felt sucked down, down, through a reddish tube with black vein-like trees surrounding it- or perhaps those were actually veins.  He moved forwards, drifting in an oddly familiar way- except his spirit used its feet- until he found a heart floating in the middle.  It was his heart, he knew it like he knew his own name.  Continuing forwards, for there was no backwards, he soon found himself seeping out of his own mouth.  On top of the puzzle box was a jar filled with formaldehyde.  He put his heart in, and felt something get ticked off- the first of ten sacrifices to bring back William Vanderboom, and the one that would bind him to this plane and his bloodline further.  The frame appeared around the heart, and William faded to ponder what he’d noticed.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Any questions?  Feel free to ask them, as not all of them will get answered in the text, but I'm happy to rant about them in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Finding Love. Summer 1865</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William faded into existence once more, taking a moment to assess his surroundings.  James was sitting next to a young woman- Mary, he thought her name was- as the sun sat behind them.  James clearly cared, and had shown it before, but was shy.  William leaned forwards, taking in the locked cabinet, the rose in the flower, and the crow sitting on the key in the tree- which was fortunately growing.  James held a card, but had forgotten a pen- so that would be the first goal.  Running semi-corporeal fingers through the crow’s feathers, William collected a loose one, a good length for a quill.  Then he took the rose from the vase and gave it to Mary.  She lifted it to her nose- clearly she was from an old family around the area, used to odd things happening around the Lake.  However, the thorns pricked her and a trickle of blood began running quickly down her face.  James took his handkerchief and offered it to Mary, who cleaned her face and returned the handkerchief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pool of blood from the hanky dripped onto the card James was holding, and William gave him the feather, and he used the blood to write a proposal on the card.  Passing the card to Mary, both Vanderboom men waited with bated breath- or simply excitedly, in William’s case, as being dead, he had no breath to wait batedly with.  Mary smiled and scooted closer, revealing a worm.  William took the worm and fed it to the crow, satisfying it so that it flew away, allowing him to take the key and unlock the cabinet.  Nailed to the back of the cabinet was a hand, with a ring on one finger.  William took the ring and passed it to James, who gave it to Mary.  The frame appeared around Mary’s face, and William faded once more.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Childbirth.  Summer 1867</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mary was sitting on a low, wide seat, pale and heavily pregnant.  There were three cribs next to her, and as William finished blinking the In-Between out of nonexistent eyes, he froze.  Three great-niblings, all at once to keep an eye on?  It would make the sacrifices come faster, halfway at their generation plus any spouses, but that was a lot.  It showed- Mary wasn’t doing well, carrying all three had taken a toll.  In the middle crib, a spigot sat.  William took it.  He’d never married, and neither had Aldous- neither had even been around when James was little, so he didn’t know what babies should be like.  There were only his own long-faded memories of childhood to draw on, but those seemed the most artificial when compared to all the other spans of his life.  Moving to one side, he saw a mortar and pestle, along with three birth certificates so that next time James went into town, he could register them with the town clerk.  From the chest, he pulled out a large pair of scissors.  He also took the spoon from next to the mortar.  <br/>He snipped a sprig from the plant on the barrel, sticking in the spigot as an afterthought.  The sprig was crushed with the pestle, and he scooped it out, passing it to Mary.  Then he started looking around- there had to be a midwife, correct?  There was nobody else in the room- James had gone for some reason, William didn’t know why, but he wasn’t in the house or lab.  <br/>Mary took the potion.  William was panicking, and the babies were coming!  Suddenly, all the panic seemed to step away- it was still there, just far enough away that William could work.  As each baby came, William wielded the large scissors and clipped the cord, placing each infant in a cradle.  He also took the placenta and fed it to the dog- what else could he do?  Then he let himself panic until the panic wore itself out.  When he was done, the dog was asleep, the infants were diapered, but they were all scrunched up, looking ready to cry.  <br/>Mary still looked tired, trying to stand but not making it even an inch off of the seat before slumping back.  William took the key from around the dog’s neck and unlocked the cabinet on the wall.  One bottle was given to Mary, and she filled it with milk, but she couldn’t fill the other two.  One of them, William took and filled from the spigot- it appeared to be wine, who kept wine in a barrel?- and filled the other from the window, where it was raining.  The birth certificates had stains on them, so he matched the bottles to the stains- little Emma, the only girl, got water; Samuel, the older of the two boys, got milk; and Albert, the youngest, got the wine.  All the babies settled, and the frame appeared around the bottle of water.  William faded, letting the second wave of panic- he was a great-uncle- wash over him as he embraced nonexistence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Staircase.  Summer 1870</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William returned to existence, still somewhat shaken.  Although it was three years since he’d been able to interfere, time was somewhat fluid in the In-Between, and it never seemed like long between times checking in on his family.  Mary had appeared to recover well.  He poked around- the paper on the table, the image behind a photo of James and Mary, and the pages of a book James was reading- to find the code for the sliding panel in the bookcase.  James was looking into the family secrets now, and it appeared the second sacrifice would be sooner rather than later.  The panel opened, revealing a telescope, which William took.  Then he slid the books around until the first marker slid down, that precise balance that was near-impossible to get any other way- and sometimes impossible if you got it right, even with the helpful code on the spines.  He did the same with the bottom full shelf, then looked out the window.  Something was happening at the Hotel- it appeared that Mr. Owl, who Aldous had spoken of often in their infrequent meetups, was running something.  Oddly enough, there was a line of figurines matching up to the windows and the guests- the Lake was being its usual tricksy self, and was mixing up the schemes- and not just through Aldous.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging as best as one could with no shoulders, or indeed, physical form, William matched the figurines with their positions, and stood back as the bookcase slid aside, revealing the hidden staircase.  James rose, and slipped down the stairs with an ease that belied the fact that he likely hadn’t been down before- or had he?  The frame appeared just as William was following him down and the doorway below came into full view, and he was pulled back into the In-Between.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So we've gotten through another update!  Two to three chapters at a time, since they're so short, enjoy and let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Elixir.  Summer 1870</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Soon enough, William was slingshotted back into the Mortal Plane, and he quickly whirled, taking in as much information as he could.  James was standing in the old laboratory, although much of their work had been put away- clearly Aldous’s doing.  Instead of their old equipment, there was a table with a scale, five bottles, and the large flask they’d use for the elixir.  On the wall was a sheet of instructions, however, they were marked in weight instead of by the patterns on the bottles.  On the other side of the archway, the warning hung, and the dog- what was his name?- sat, staring at his water dish.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James quickly weighed and mixed the liquids, producing the elixir once more- and how William wished it was that easy, when he and Aldous had done it.  He poured a single drop into the dog’s water bowl, and waited for the dog to drink it.  When the dog didn’t keel over, James downed a shot of it himself, suddenly collapsing and gurgling as he died- the elixir, as best as William could determine, stealing one life in return for the one it extended, or perhaps reacting differently to something unseen in its victim’s bodies.  Regardless, he faded, the frame appearing on the fallen glass, worrying about the triplets.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Wake.  Summer 1870</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William appeared again, shaking.  Why was he here?  His nephew had just died, making the same mistake that he did, but there wouldn’t be enough sacrifices for many more generations for two- the original backup, for one, still had the odds on almost a hundred years, what with the lack of murderous desire.  The picture hung on the wall, mocking him with the plans he came up with.  William also noticed the shattered piece of stone in one corner, but pushed it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lid of the coffin slid off, and William leaned over.  Something was pushing him, tucking his grief back into a corner, letting him push his schemes forwards.  A feeling, like Aldous standing behind him, pushed him over the first edge- and William reached out.  As he rearranged the rings on his nephew’s fingers, something inside him shattered, irreparable.  Pulling the eyeball out from the coat was the final stage, crushing the shards into powder.  Mentally sweeping the dust away, William stood, catching a quick glimpse of his hands- black, shadowy, reminiscent of-.  Something slammed on his train of thought, almost forcibly redirecting it over to the cabinet.  He poked at it until it revealed a deer rearing next to a large bird, then the door opened, revealing a silver coin.  At least he could provide this, the last service for a nephew dead too young.  Behind the jar waiting on top of the cabinet was a second coin, and William took it too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William placed the coins over James’ sunken eyes, only to startle as his mouth opened, his tongue sticking out with an eyeball on it.  Slightly revolted, he took it, noting that the tongue stayed out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the room, a statue sat in pieces.  Each piece seemed to stick in place, and when the whole thing was assembled, the cracks seemed to vanish.  William was somewhat taken aback at the fact that it looked like him- he didn’t remember this.  He put the eyeballs in the holes in the statue’s face, snickering quietly at the look, before turning to the panel in the pedestal that opened.  Inside was a dagger.  The remnants of the powder twitched, and William simply stared at it for a long minute.  Then he picked it up, turned to James’ corpse, and cut out his tongue, placing it in the jar.  The frame appeared around the tongue, but he didn’t notice, instead focusing on the odd feeling that was filling him since the tongue hit the liquid.  When he faded into the In-Between, it just felt like it got stronger- a cold, dripping wet feeling that was almost tasteable.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Child's Play.  Summer 1876</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William shivered as he was once more hauled into existence, slowly tiring already.  Only two sacrifices collected, and so much time in and out- and that had felt odd, cutting out his nephew’s tongue.  He refocused on the surroundings- the yard of the house, where the children were playing.  None of them were as chipper as he thought children were supposed to be, but they hadn’t had a father as far as they could remember- from what William could tell, they were nine and their father had died six years ago.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Albert and Emma were trying to catch a butterfly, while Samuel watched, looking on and smirking slightly.  He collected parts for a slingshot, including a scrap of loose ribbon from Emma’s bow.  William passed the pot lid to Emma, so that when they caught the butterfly, it wouldn’t fly off.  Albert got honey to put in the jar, and as Samuel let his first marble fly, the butterfly lifted off.  It landed in the jar, and Emma was quick to secure the lid.  As Albert and Emma looked closer at the butterfly, the faint bags under their eyes made more visible by the bright sunlight, Samuel’s second marble knocked off Albert’s hat.  Not knowing what happened, Albert assumed Emma did it, and shoved her in retaliation.  Emma shoved back, and the two quickly dissolved into a shoving match.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Emma won, and Albert ended up at the foot of the tree.  Emma and Samuel laughed, and Albert glared.  William was frozen, watching, as something tingled up his spine- this was going to be important.  Samuel let a third marble loose, and it hit the beehive- which fell onto Albert’s head.  He laughed, and after a moment, so did Emma- it was somewhat humorous.  Emma stopped laughing, as did Samuel, when they noticed the blood trickling down Albert’s face, and Samuel ran for Mary, but the damage had been done.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world seemed to grey slightly, and William looked up to see a familiar black silhouette, which resolved itself into the shape of Aldous.  “Poor children” he cawed, staring as he often did half an inch above William’s shoulder.  “Their lives will be full of misery” like ours were? thought William, but didn’t speak.  “But their legacy will be of great importance”.  The frame appeared around his eye, and William shivered as he was pulled away.  He didn’t want to go, partly to make sure Albert would be alright, partly to ask questions of Aldous.  He wasn’t privy to the full extent of his plans, but he did want to be alive.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Fertility.  Summer 1884</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William faded back into the Mortal Plane confused, twitchy, and knowing that a lot of time had passed.  The garden was looking well, and several pots were lined up.  Sitting in front of the array was Emma, now grown.  William passed her the garden weasel, then sat back to see what she was going to do.  Apparently, breed flowers.  Each flower matched up to images in one of Aldous’s books, carefully copied and colored with an artist’s steady hands.  With the help of some of the local bees, the four flowers were carefully bred, blooming fully- almost eerily like the pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Emma had all four flowers, she placed them in the same pot, then wove their stems together.  As the last flower settled into place, they merged into one plant, with a soft, glowing white bloom.  William, entranced, poked it- only to see it shatter.  The petals seemed glowing white orbs, which drifted before swirling around and entering Emma, who welcomed them- and suddenly appeared pregnant, around three to four months if William was guessing right.  The frame appeared around her face, and William returned, glad that the family was continuing and that one of the three was alright, even if there would be no husband- indeed, she’d keep the name, which would make her a better sacrifice.  Something seemed off about that, but William was too far gone to really figure out why.  Perhaps he’d manage later.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry about the short chapters, but I don't really go into detail about the puzzles.  Leave a comment, let me know what you think!  About a third of the way, chapter-wise, a quarter of the way in terms of stuff I need to go through.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Masks.  Spring 1885</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was somebody standing behind an altar, a knife in hand.  From the scar on his face, William determined it was Albert- he had no way of figuring out how long it had been since he’d seen Emma, but at least he was able to keep an eye on the triplets.  However, it seemed like not all was well with Albert.  Opening the shutters and throwing the windows wide open, William glanced outside.  It was a lovely sunny day, and the old church was gleaming.  Nobody knew when the church was built, it had been around for as long as anyone remembered.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Albert put on a blue mask with lenses over his eyes, and suddenly there was a faint crack and it was pouring rain outside.  William took the watering can and filled it at the window, then poured it down the funnel on the wall- why not help young Albert?  Learning the proper ways to sacrifice safely without causing damage to oneself and others was a useful life skill!- and caught the key that fell out.  He tried it on the cabinets on the wall, and opened the top panel, releasing a white mask.  Albert traded the masks out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, it was now snowing.  William took an icicle from the sill and rammed it up the second pipe.  A key fell out, and he used it on the second cabinet, pulling out a telescope.  He looked out the window, and saw, standing on the old church, a shadowy figure with a single beak.  There were two symbols in the snow, and as he noted the symbols, the figure faded away.  Under the funnels, there were four rotating discs, and he spun two to match the symbols.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Albert traded his mask again, and as William looked once more, standing on the cliff face in front of that hotel- why was it there?  Nobody ever went- was the same figure, with two more symbols.  It faded once more, and William turned the remaining dials.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A third, grinning mask was revealed.  Albert put it on, and it turned to night outside, the full moon looming unnaturally large in the sky.  Looking out with the telescope, William saw a dark spot.  Looking closer, he saw a window, just like the one he was looking out of, with the same wallpaper, and a dark shadowy figure with a telescope held to one eye looking back at him.  It raised five fingers, then two, then three, then one, then put its hand down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the table to the side, there was a lockbox with dials.  He put in the code from the shadowy figure, refusing to think of what that meant for his state- was he corrupted like it?- and opened it to reveal a butterfly.  Good for a first sacrifice, big enough to mean something but small enough that nothing too bad should happen.  He placed it on the altar, and waited for Albert to take his mask off so that he could make his sacrifice as true to himself as he could.  Masks were fine for later ones, but the first one was more about making an introduction.  Too late, he realized that that wasn’t written where people could find it easily- at the very back of the book, and only the fact that he was thorough and mad at Aldous that day had saved them from the mistake.  He reached out, trying to hold Albert back or take off the mask, but it was too late.  In the smiling mask that brought the moon closer than it should be, he brought the knife down on the butterfly, and blood ran off the edges of the altar.  As the frame appeared around his masked face, William fell backwards, despairing.  If he got help soon, he could manage- but he’d need a mask for any working from now on, and unless he gave up his workings, he’d never quite feel comfortable without something on his face- ready to pull him deeper and deeper.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Howdy!  I'm not dead, more updates are in your future, but I'm writing these somewhat out of order, so it may take a bit to get to the next one chronologically.  Let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Clock.  Spring 1899</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>William shivered back into existence, looking at the last of the triplets- presumably Samuel, who’d had the questionable sense to stay out of the previous family drama and his brother’s insanity.  He was standing in a workroom, holding a saw and glue.  William absently picked up a gear, tossing it from one hand to the other as he watched Samuel work.  He made neat cuts, always taking the time to line up each board precisely.  William twisted the two gears- and when had he grabbed the second one?- as he let the simple, precise movements soothe some part of him that was aching from the loss of one triplet to madness and one great-nephew to his mad uncle’s whims.  <br/>Once the pieces were prepared, William wound the four gears- how?- as he paced to look.  It was a new clock, like the one his body had been in, but sturdier, better-made, ready to last as long as it needed to be.  William put the gears in place in the top, just in time for Samuel to nearly clamp his immaterial fingers under the back panel, before hooking up the face.  The cut pieces fit into the back, painted neatly.  The door followed, and Samuel set the time.  William felt something poke at the back of his head, and as he turned, he saw somebody at the window.  Staring, he opened it.  She was a redhead, somewhat gaunt but still fair- and passing a pipe in.  Samuel took it and lit it, smiling.  William saw the frame appear around Samuel’s face, and as he faded, he smiled. It appeared that one of the triplets would manage to escape the madness that seemed to follow their line.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm here again!  With more writing time than I usually get, I've decided to be more of a one-to-two chapters per day, with regards to the fact that they are often written out of order.  Hopefully I can finish before the New Year, which is looking likely!<br/>Leave a comment, tell me what you liked!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Fortune Teller.  Summer 1899</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William stood, wary as the sky was grey with the odd light that spoke of something odd happening with the Lake.  There was a tent set up in the yard, as well as a table outside.  Something was painted on the locked cabinet, and it was ringing bells in William’s head- wasn’t the poster on Samuel’s wall for a fortune-teller?  Wasn’t she the nice young lady who’d returned Samuel’s pipe?- and made him look.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the table were three dolls- one crowned, one with no eyes, and one with horns.  Each had a symbol on their torsos, and he noted them- he rarely saw things that weren’t important.  There was another doll hanging from the tree, a noose around its neck.  Something whispered to him about that, but he pushed it aside- it wasn’t now, he’d think about it in the In-Between.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fifth doll was tucked inside the tree, looking vaguely unhappy with its lot.  He entered the tent, only to be met with Ida’s stare, as he moved the cards around to their spots.  When he’d matched each up- the symbols on the cards with the symbols from the dolls- Ida gave him a key.  The key unlocked the cabinet, revealing a grey glass ball.  He gave the ball to Ida, then sat back to see what she’d see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images flashed in front of his eyes- a redheaded woman in black with a crown on and a symbol flickering, a clean shaven man with a telescope and another symbol, a shaggy-haired man with a third symbol, a man with his eyes gouged out and a fourth symbol, a woman who looked a lot like Emma hanging with a noose around her neck and a fifth symbol, and behind them all, the lake in grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>William was shaken- the images rang clearly with truth, but did that mean that Emma- he cut himself off.  He redid the cards, sliding them to the old symbols.  When he looked up again, the glass ball was red now.  He looked at the images: a family photo, a man with a deer skull on his head holding voodoo dolls, a man with red eyes screaming, Aldous looking as crow-like as he always was these days, the Tree bare of leaves and a woman holding something wrapped- perhaps a baby?- and it all on a reversed image of the Lake.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ida stared at him, judging him, as the frame appeared around her face.  Perhaps she was a good fit for this family- she was just as mad as the rest of them, thought William as he faded once more.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Swing.  Fall 1891</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William stumbled as he exited the In-Between, whirling around to make sure that nothing terrible was happening.  The first thing he saw was Albert, standing by the old well- probably dry now, but still kept up so that the younger ones wouldn’t fall in, and how did he know that?- and the remnants of a stuffed bear sitting at the base of the well.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knife in Albert’s pocket, which was quickly confiscated.  Noticing a pumpkin on the ground and the discomfort that Albert was practically radiating into the air, he quickly carved a face into the pumpkin, trying to make it as friendly as he could, but mostly failing.  However, once the shell was on Albert’s face, he relaxed, the near-invisible tension bleeding off.  William then picked up the teddy and turned, grabbing the key that Albert was now holding out as an afterthought.  Behind the locked cabinet was one arm of the stuffed bear, and the key served to unlock it- revealing the head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put the bear together, and passed it to the small child- Emma’s son- who grasped it tightly and began to swing on the swing attached to the Tree.  Soon, however, a gust of wind swung him too high, and he flew off.  He landed in the well, clinging to the bar on top.  Albert gave him his bear, which seemed nice, but caused the child- Henry?  No, Frank- to let go with one hand.  Then Albert turned the handle, and Frank fell down the well.  The frame appeared around the stone rim of the well as William tried to lunge and catch Frank, even though it was too late.  He faded uselessly, twitching.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Search.  Fall 1891</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Inside the upper-floor sitting room, Emma was transformed- still as pale as she’d always been, only now her hair had lightened and the black she wore left no trace of the usual warmth that came from long hours gardening.  There was a small shrine in the corner, with paper behind it.  William took the paper and wandered throughout the room, looking for more- one behind the odd puzzle box, one behind a sketch of Emma and Frank, and three on the table.  When he lined them up, they made a pseudo-map, four places to look for coordinates.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first place he looked was the Hotel, and as he centered the crosshairs as the pseudo-map had said, a beam of light shot up.  Evidently, something was happening.  The next place he looked was the bridge, then the mill, then the old church.  When he stepped away from the telescope, a bird was sitting there- the odd parrot, Harvey, that Aldous had spoken of- loyal, if not extremely bright.  A good problem-solver.  He put the maths together from the telescope, and unlocked the box to see a stamp.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William took the stamp and the ink from the shrine and turned to Emma’s writing desk, passing her the materials.  She filled the ink pot, stamped her message, and rolled it up and put it in the message tube, which William gave to Harvey.  He wished he could tell Emma that Frank was in the well, but he couldn’t speak, only move things, and he couldn’t find a pen to write with.  The frame appeared around Harvey’s head, and he settled as he faded- perhaps Emma could find Frank and the future he’d seen could be averted. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Wedding Photo.  Winter 1985</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>William was bouncing slightly as he returned- there was a wedding!  Ida was dressed in a white gown, with Samuel standing behind her in a nice suit.  Mary was to their left, with a small child on her lap- perhaps their child, although if so, William was wondering why it had taken so long for them to get married.  He opened the cabinets, pulling out a top hat and a white mask.  On the hooks sat a veil, a nice hat, and a pageboy cap.  Emma and Albert were on the other side, and William opened the other cabinet, pulling out a black hat, and stood.  He distributed the headwear to everyone, then hurried around to the camera, snapping a photo.  Wasn’t this lovely- an image of the whole family to keep, and two more members of the family!  The frame appeared around Ida’s face in the photo, and he faded happily for once- things were looking up!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright, two things.  First, the dates are adjusted based on the wiki, so I don't have to push aside any inconsistencies I notice.  <br/>Second, you get a big dump because a) I am officially halfway through writing this based on videos I have to watch, and b) I haven't been updating a lot recently.</p><p>Poor William- he's really having a time.  </p><p>Comment!  Let me know what you think, ask questions, go for it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Painting.  Summer 1896</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William’s attention was drawn to Emma as soon as he fell out of the In-Between.  She was even paler and gaunter than she had been, still in all black with her cheekbones more defined than was healthy, but at least she was sitting outside, painting again.  She had already made the preliminary sketches on her canvas, and had her flowers sitting out as color references.  Behind the pots was a key, which he took.  Sitting away from them was a pot with turmeric and a shell, and he took both of those- she made her own paints, and it was always good to have spares of your ingredients. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William turned to the cabinet, unlocking it to find a bottle and picking up the brush beside it.  Then he took the berries growing beneath the Tree, as well as using the bottle to catch the oil, and turned to the table.  Although there was a noose dangling from the tree, he hoped it was just Albert practicing his knots- Aldous had certainly done the same often enough.  He ground what he’d collected and added the oil to make paint, then added the paints he’d made to the palette and sat back, passing Emma her brush so she could work.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started with the grass, a nice yellow of half-dead grass.  Then she did the Tree in a vibrant orange, not really matching wood but still showing its life and vitality.  The house she did white, and while the house was faded it was certainly still clean.  The moon, not risen yet, was red- perhaps a reminder from Albert’s actions?  Finally, she put two figures in black- one on the ground, staring, the other-  William froze.  The other was dangling from the tree.  When he leaned back, looking out from the world again, the world seemed to be that much more grey-toned, and the second figure, the one on the ground, seemed that much more like him.  Shaking, he turned.  Emma was dangling from the noose, swaying slightly- like she’d jumped from the table.  Tears were dripping down her face, and he caught them in the oil jar.  The frame appeared around her eye, a single tear dripping down.  The first of the triplets to go, and by her own hand.  Was this how Aldous had felt? was William’s last thought before he faded. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Lying Game.  Winter 1896</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William returned, mourning quietly.  He’d missed James, but family fights had meant that he hadn't really known him beyond the faint idea of the child running about, chasing a dog.  Emma, on the other hand, he’d literally been there at her birth, and dropped in on her as she’d grown up.  Samuel seemed upset as he had been, while Mary was pale and worn as she had been for years now.  Ida wasn’t cheery either, picking up on the aura of grief in the room.  Even Albert seemed to be mourning his sister, although he was best at not letting it show.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each of them were holding three cards- it seemed like they were playing the Lying Game.  On the table in the middle, a piece of paper declared the rules, as well as showed one card.  The rules read ‘The High Priestess always tells the truth.  The Devil always lies.  The Chariot lies only once.  The Empress tells the truth only once.  Look outside’.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Samuel’s cards read ‘my sister died’, ‘the locker code starts with 37’, and ‘a key is hidden behind the bottom right corner of the painting’.  Well, his sister was definitely dead, so that was true.  The locker would wait for later, but the painting was easy enough to check.  It turned out to be a painting of Aldous, and the key was indeed there.  On the table in front of the locker, a newspaper sat, two headlines jumping out at him.  The first detailed an incident at Rusty Lake Hotel, just across the lake.  The other declared that Emma Vanderboom had been found dead, and had a picture- did those newspaper folks have no shame?  At least put a picture of her arranged for her funeral, not still dangling from the Tree!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next in the circle was Ida.  Her cards read ‘a key is hidden under the newspaper’, ‘the devil has my photo in his pocket’, and ‘the locker code ends with 46’.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since he was already looking at cards, Albert was next.  One of his pockets looked to have something in it, and when he peeked, William saw a small photo of Ida, smiling as much as she ever did.  His cards read ‘I don’t love Ida’, ‘my brother is not married’, and ‘a card is hidden right of the painting’.  Well, having somebody’s photo in your pocket generally spoke to more than a passing acquaintance, and Samuel and Ida were definitely married- he’d been to the photo after the ceremony, which sat on the wall.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mary was the last one with cards, and hers read ‘a card is hidden behind the top left corner of the photo’, ‘the locker code ends with 94’, and ‘it is summer’.  It was winter- the wind was howling well enough outside that even William was aware of that.  A card was indeed hidden behind the photo, and the locker code ended in 94 instead of 46, after trying both- incidentally, revealing another card.  The third card was hidden behind the shutters, which were unlocked with the key.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Samuel hadn’t lied, so he was the High Priestess.  Albert was the Devil, Mary was the Chariot, and that left Ida as the empress.  William stood and looked outside, seeing a shadowy figure- the same beaked one from before, the one that reminded him of Aldous but not, wearing a deer skull on its head.  It passed the skull to him, and slid to the side.  William gave the skull to Albet, who put it on.  The frame appeared, and William faded, worrying.  Nothing bad had happened, so why did he feel like he’d just doomed himself?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Family Band.  Summer 1904</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William was on edge when he’d returned, but nothing seemed to be too bad.  Ida, Samuel, Leonard, and Albert were standing with instruments, ready to play a song.  Ida had a tambourine, Samuel had a violin, Leonard had a recorder, and Albert had a tuba.  There was paper in Leonard and Albert’s pockets, so William took it.  To the side, Mary was sitting, now fully grey and pale, but still looking as strong as she had all those years ago when James had proposed.  On the wall was one quarter of the sheet music, and there was a jar waiting for a sacrifice.  A chill whispered down William’s spine, but he hoped for a deathless sacrifice- the tears could have been collected earlier, after all, and there was still much to go.  Behind the jar was a third piece of sheet music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting together the sheet music, it read simply- a good tune for Leonard, but still pretty enough to please Mary.  Each person practiced their part, a simple back-and-forth tune, then they started together.  Each note, somebody took a picture- not William, but somebody- but on the final section, a bright flash filled the room.  When William could see again, the first thing he looked for was Leonard.  He was curled up on the wall, which was splattered in blood.  Two voodoo dolls were pinned to the wall with blood behind them, and scrawled on the wall was ‘THERE WILL BE BLOOD’.  Ida, Samuel, and Albert were missing, and the tambourine and violin were on the ground.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William turned, worried, to see Mary dead in her chair, terrified and missing most of her teeth.  He didn’t know how much of that was age and how much of that was people being idiots, but the remaining teeth came out easily and went into the jar.  The frame appeared around the jar, and William tried to comfort poor Leonard but faded before he could offer more than a touch to the shoulder. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And here's today's update!  Getting quite close to the end on writing this up, and depending on my mood you'll get it done by Christmas or perhaps a few days later.  </p><p>Leave a comment, tell me what you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Voodoo.  Summer 1904</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William was seriously worried.  Albert was at his altar, holding two voodoo dolls, while Samuel and Ida were at the table in the next room, mildly anxious but otherwise unconcerned.  Either they had amazing poker faces or this regularly happened, and either option was equally worrying.  He took Samuel’s pipe, still glowing, and used it to light the candle, which he took.  The doll in Albert’s right hand, William’s left, was set on fire, and one arm was raised.  In the other room, Samuel was burning and posed as he had been, while the lantern was knocked down.  William wanted to put out the dolls, but there were no nonflammable liquids- two jars full of preservation fluid, but you only needed to burn your eyebrows off once to prove that it wasn’t the best idea to mix that and fire.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the key from the lantern, feeling some of his upset at the poor voodoo and nobody’s reaction be drained.  The key unlocked one of two boxes, revealing a long needle.  The non-burning doll, the one in Albert’s left hand, on William’s right, the one with hair, was stabbed.  One of its arms lifted.  In the other room, Ida was impaled- although with what, he wasn’t quite certain.  Albert kept moving the limbs, and matching up the limbs and the faces with the box, while somewhat upsetting- Ida was nice, and this family was bloody enough!- was the only thing he could really do.  The box had a tiny pair of scissors.  Oh no, was Albert really going to-?  Yes, it appeared that he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snipped off each of the button eyes, and William hastily gathered them up and put them in the preserving liquid.  No use wasting a sacrifice, but now two of the triplets were dead- leaving behind a son, and the grandmother was also dead, so all he had was his crazy homicidal uncle- and the only non-crazy family members were gone.  The frame appeared around the eyeballs as the faint thuds of the corpses hitting the ground came from the other room.  William shivered, hoping that poor Leonard would be alright. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Brood.  Summer 1909</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When William returned to existence, Albert was in the labs.  He had a full-face mask on, but almost seemed less comfortable in it- like he’d been trying to break himself of the habit, but hadn’t yet succeeded.  Either that, or he was making his last attempt to do something major- either would be possible.  On the wall was a worrying diagram, especially considering that Albert seemed to have been in love with Ida, or at least as ‘in love’ as he could claim- Aldous had been much the same, not really understanding romantic love, but fortunately, he’d ended up with good friendships out of it and people willing to either explain he didn’t have to or cover for his mistakes.  Albert didn’t have those resources, and seemed to have suffered for that.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a box to the side, there was a single preserved egg.  How he’d gotten that, William didn’t want to know, but it seemed like one of Ida’s, considering her photo.  There was also a potato behind the box.  William took both.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Under the tubes, there was a jar.  The insides were coated in something sticky, mostly clear.  William was trying not to think about what it was or why Albert decided this was the way to go.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a grate by the side, and carefully, Frank pulled himself to it.  He stuck a hand out, and William gave him the potato, receiving a set of flint rocks in return.  The flint rocks lit the candle under a flask of green liquid, which started giving off smoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert turned the pipes, and poured the contents of the jar and the egg down the funnel and into the larger flask.  They drifted there.  Then he set up the gas and the liquid, neither of which William could quite identify.   When all four of the components mixed, there was a quiet pop, and a tiny infant appeared in the flask.  The frame appeared around it as William faded, happy for the new family member but worried about Albert and what he’d be pushed to do next.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The War Hero.  Spring 1914</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Leonard was standing there, in some kind of uniform.  Next to him, a motorcycle was disassembled, and appeared to be missing parts.  What a motorcycle was, William wasn’t quite sure, but it looked like a bicycle, so perhaps it was a motorized bicycle?  The world was a mysterious, confusing place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were three papers on the ground.  One was a map of the surrounding area with pigeon paths marked, one was a diagram of the motorcycle, and one was a newspaper, declaring that war had been declared.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard kept sending out the pigeons, until he’d gotten all the parts he needed.  When he’d gotten them, he matched them up with the diagram and the symbols on the bike itself.  It wasn’t an easy job, but once it was finished, Leonard mounted up and rode off, ready to do his part.  The frame appeared around his face, and William waved him off, the prickle of dread as he faded whispering that, wherever he was going, William wouldn’t be completely coming back.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Trenches.  Winter 1918</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William’s worries were cemented when the first thing he saw as he faded in was Leonard on a table- the same table from the wake?  Likely- with his face covered in bandages.  The slight rise and fall of his chest spoke to him still living, but the jar on the table whispered that not all of him had made it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the table, he took the cap and one of the legs- it still had three, it was fine.  One of Leonard’s pockets had a key, and that unlocked one of the drawers from the chest of drawers next to the table he was laying on.  From that drawer, he pulled out a pair of pliers, from one above it he found scissors.  The scissors undid enough of the bandages that he could undo them, besides a bit of blood, his face and head looked fine, no injuries to be seen.  His limbs, however, were a different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, William cut open the pant leg and redid the bandaging there, so as to actually cover up the injuries.  There was a bullet lodged in his arm, which was removed with pliers.  The cap went on the stump of his right leg, and the table leg went on the cap.  As the last of the injuries were treated, Leonard’s eyes flew open, pale and unseeing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William leaned forwards and tipped into Leonard’s flashback.  He was in the trenches, then a grenade blew- he saw the pin falling loose.  When he could see again, the air was white and hazy, and a figure was standing over Leonard’s fallen body.  It was in pieces, and William put the pieces back together, revealing- possibly himself?  A shadowy figure.  Leonard woke up, screaming, eyes red.  Then he settled, and William fell back in.  Once more, the grenade, then the white void was filled this time with two shadowy figures- perhaps James and Mary?  Perhaps Samuel and Ida.  Scream.  Settle.  Explosion.  This time, it was Albert with his deer mask.  Scream.  Settle.  Explosion.  Next up was Aldous, and when he was assembled, he gave the cryptic instructions ‘Hello, brother.  Save Leonard.  We need him to find the treasure.’  Then he held up a key, which William took.  Scream.  Settle.  This time, William unlocked the box beside Leonard, and gave him the gas mask inside.  When the grenade went off, Leonard was missing a leg but alive and upright instead of having collapsed.  Three figures appeared, each a symbol.  Once all of them were assembled, they displayed the code to the box.  Inside the box was Leonard’s foot, which was placed into the preservation liquid.  The frame appeared around the foot, and William, as he faded once more, hoped that Leonard would be alright, but worried he wouldn’t be.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Communication.  Fall 1919</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the attic of the house, a small girl dressed in black was waiting.  She had red hair, and prominent cheekbones- this appeared to be the child Albert had made.  She had a chain around her neck, and was standing in front of a spirit board.  There were paintings of Aldous and himself on the wall, and William stepped closer to see what she’d ask.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing she- Rose, apparently- asked was a simple ‘Can you hear me?’  Encouraged, William moved the planchette to ‘Yes’.  She didn’t smile, only asked her second question.  ‘What is your first name?’  William pressed in ‘William’, and noticed that his painting, for a second, had flashed black with glowing white eyes.  Then Rose asked ‘What is your last name?’ and he entered ‘Vanderboom’.  Just like yours, he didn’t say.  Just like everyone else’s who’s died here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose was speaking again.  ‘Do you want my key?’  William didn’t know, but having keys never hurt, so he said ‘Yes’.  To the side, there was a large golden cabinet, locked.  Using the key, he unlocked the lock and found a mirror, reflecting back at him the truth he’d been trying to ignore: he was a corrupted spirit- now, and perhaps even after he’d gotten a body again.  There was a key tucked against the top, and he took it.  Then blood dripped down the surface, and when it cleared, the word LIVE was scrawled in front of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second key unlocked the chest, which held two papers.  The first showed that three timepieces, from three branches, were needed to unlock the gate.  The second showed that ten sacrifices were needed to allow for one rebirth- a heart, to secure the soul; a foot, to support the construction; hair, to bring forth a human appearance; two eyes, to see things truly; teeth, to defend the self and to eat well; tears, for a life lost and regained; blood, to bring true life; a brain, to allow for true thought and remembrance; and a tongue, to allow speaking the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose was asking another question.  ‘What do you want?’  That was simple.  ‘Live’ he answered.  ‘What do you need to live again?’ she asked.  Smart cookie, that one.  Not just working for a cause because she was getting answers off a spirit board.  ‘Sacrifices’ he wrote, knowing they had been stored in the labs and the record was in the chest.  She’d be able to help- probably had already been in the lab, as her dress reminded him of the thick smocks they’d used for some of their more volatile experiments.  ‘What do you need to open the gate?’ she asked, confirming his theory that she’d been down there.  ‘Timepieces’ he answered.  Rose didn’t wait.  ‘I will help you’ she declared.  The frame appeared around her face, and William faded again, happy.  Perhaps the remaining sacrifices could be gotten without more deaths!</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The Well, pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When William returned to the Mortal Plane, he was excited but upset.  Excited, because Frank was alive and at least somewhat sane, but upset that Albert had kept him barely alive but had never bothered to get out.  There was the old teddy bear in one side of the well, which, when decapitated, revealed a twist of wire.  There was also a sharp rock next to it, which William took.  A hand stuck itself through the bars, holding berries, and yet when Frank made a grab for it, pulled back- teasing.  William stabbed the hand, upset about the treatment of one of his great-grand niblings.  Frank ate the berries, and William tossed a paper airplane up and out of the well, before dodging out of the way of the bucket that came down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Etched on the wall and the paper airplane was a code.  William set up the code for water, and then tugged the rope to let whoever was on the other side pull it up.  It rose, and soon descended with a cup of liquid.  It wasn’t water, that much was certain, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.  Still, he passed it to Frank- he looked so skinny it was a wonder he was still sitting up- and sent up the request for food.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food that came down was a grilled fish, which Frank devoured.  William sent up the request for a wooden stick, and when it came down, passed it to Frank, who used it to haul himself across the well and into the bucket.  It rose.  The frame appeared around Frank’s face, and William faded happily- one of the wrongs that had been nagging at him was finally rectified.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Almost done writing it up, so finished by Christmas is a definite possibility!  </p><p>I enjoy every comment I get, keep them coming!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. The Well, pt. 2.  Fall 1920</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rose was looking well, still in all black, but she managed to make it look more like a style choice and less like she was mourning constantly, unlike her aunt.  She was prepared, with a new bucket and rope set up, a fire pit cleared, an axe ready, a modified bear trap, a stick in hand, a cup, matches, and a worm from the flowerpots, and that odd dog still sitting there.  Evidently part of that experiment had gone well.  A paper airplane flew out of the well, with instructions for how a message should be sent.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose stepped into action: the trap was set with the worm, a spare branch from the tree was turned into firewood, the fire was set, and the bucket was lowered down into the well.  When something tugged on the rope, she hauled it up.  The first request ,for something to drink, the dog fulfilled, filling the cup quite nicely- although that was somewhat nasty to think about.  Nevertheless, it was lowered down.  The trap had caught a fish, which went on the stick and roasted over the fire.  It was just about done when the bucket came back up, requesting food.  The fish went down.  Much quicker, the bucket came up once more asking for a wooden stick, which was sent down even faster.  The bucket came up once more, revealing Rose’s cousin Frank, seeing his first daylight in many years.  The frame appeared around his lengthy beard, and William faded happily, knowing that the cousins should manage just fine. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Checkmate.  Fall 1926</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frank and Albert were sitting across from each other.  Frank was still shaggy, although he was properly dressed now and was holding a potato.  Albert just looked old and tired, what was left of his hair now white instead of its old light brown.  He was also beginning to get a certain gaunt look, like he’d had for a time before Aldous had helped him get back up and out.  There was a jar on the table- another sacrifice already?- and a knife on the picture frame.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank got the knife and carved his potato into a chess king, quietly snacking on the scraps.  The king went onto the board, and a crown appeared on Frank’s head.  The cabinet unlocked, and revealed a black knight, which Albert took and placed on the board.  He played his way across, taking the king.  The crown changed to sit on Albert’s head, and the game reset.  This time, the chessboard was marked with letters, and he played his way across spelling a word.  The word was ‘cerebrum’, which had been scrawled on the paper in the picture frame.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank was standing behind Albert now, and had his hands around Albert’s neck.  Albert didn’t put up a fight.  He just looked tired.  After Albert was dead, the top of Albert’s head was cut off, and his brain was put into the jar, then the top of his head was put back on.  The frame appeared around the brain, and William faded, also tired.  This quest had taken too much for him to give up, but he was growing exhausted, watching the family tree, once ready to grow and bloom, now prune itself, shrinking back down to the dregs it had started from.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The Bathroom.  Winter 1927</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frank was sitting in the tub, finally ready to get properly clean.  Whether it was so he could go out, or because it was safe now, he was finally putting in some effort.  However, it was winter, and the bathroom was freezing, even to William’s barely-there sense of temperature.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William looked in the mirror.  For a moment, it showed nothing, then flashed an image of his face while shattering.  A few of the shards fell, revealing a key.  He took it, and rummaged in the drawers, finding coal and matches- one was locked up.  Then he filled the small furnace, filling the pan of water and setting it to heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After setting the water to boil, William closed the open window and covered the holes in the other with the boards.  The windows were covered, so he added the water to the tub, and as Frank relaxed somewhat in the hot steam, he held up the second key.  In the remaining drawer, there was a pair of scissors, and William carefully cut as much of the lengthy, somewhat matted hair as he could, taking a few of the cleanest locks and putting them in the jar- one more sacrifice, and proof that there could be nonlethal ones given.  The frame appeared around the hair, and he settled back, knowing that the end was coming. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. The Treasure.  Fall 1929</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late when William returned, a full moon casting its dim light on the surroundings.  Leonard was standing there, in his dress uniform, and a shovel to his side.  He was holding a piece of paper, instructions as to where the timepiece was hidden, although it was marked out in animal hops.  There was an insect, easily collected from the knot in the Tree.  The grasshopper was collected from the table, although there were six to grab from, and the frog was just sitting there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set out the animals, and something kept them from hopping away.  Leonard poked and moved them until he reached the end of the path, then stuck his shovel into the old, dry earth.  With a little effort, he managed to uncover the timepiece, bronze and still functional, despite everything.  The engravings were clean, even.  Leonard put it on, the chain somehow settling around his neck in a way it hadn’t really for Aldous or William.  The frame appeared around it, and William faded, knowing that it was all coming close.  Nine sacrifices, and now the timepieces were coming together as well. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. The Stars.  Winter 1930</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a cold, clear night as William returned once more.  Frank was in the attic, with a table to one side, the old drawing Emma had on the wall, and a bird feeder on one window.  On the table was a locked box, as well as a bag of bird feed and a card with a constellation.  William took both.  Behind the drawing was another card, and the drawing had a sketched constellation on it as well.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birdfeed, he gave to Frank, who opened the window and filled the feeder with seed.  William turned to see what else there was, but turned at a squawk- there was that parrot again, with the message from so long ago.  Frank took the message, and read it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was reading, William turned back.  There was a painting of Aldous, with another sketch, and a card behind the frame.  He lifted the frame gently off the wall and set it down, revealing a circle puzzle.  William turned each layer to connect properly, then stepped back as a ladder came down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Climbing the ladder, he saw a telescope.  There was one final card next to it, and he lined up all the cards.  It was fun, sliding the scope back and forth, matching up the constellations.  A tree, a cube, a deer, and a bird.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky changed, and a new collection of stars appeared.  They reminded him of the drawings on Emma’s drawing, and he connected them as well- and then stepped back, startled, as Emma appeared in the sky.  Her only words- ‘My son.  Read my letter.’  The second collection of stars reminded him of Aldous’ portrait, and he connected them as well, to see Aldous, in his crow-form, staring back at him.  ‘Hello, Brother.  Make sure the grandchildren find the three timepieces.  Bring the branches back together’.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he disappeared, replaced by a lens with circles, one with a ‘v’ in Emma’s handwriting.  Descending once more, he passed the lens to Frank, who was still holding his mother’s letter.  Frank aligned the lens with the writing, to see that it showed ‘LOVE’.  This code he put into the lockbox, revealing the silver timepiece.  Frank put it on, letting it rest in a way that once more, neither brother had ever managed to let it be.  Although they’d managed to use this one well, as it was the best fit for their uses, it hadn’t ever really been theirs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frame appeared around the timepiece, and William faded, ready to keep things moving along.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. The Graveyard.  Fall 1932</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late, and the chill air would have frozen William if he wasn’t far beyond that already.  Rose was far from the house, and so was William- the farthest he’d been in sixty years.  Had it really only been that long?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were at the family graveyard, and the different graves really told a tale.  Ida, Emma, and Samuel all had stone tombstones, while Mary and James had simpler crosses, and Albet had square stone and something over his grave- either people were worried about grave robbers, or else worried that something was coming out.  There was another open grave, and Rose seemed to fit in, dressed in all black as she was.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The opened grave had part of a skeleton in it, as well as a shovel, and the dog had a bone in its mouth.  William still didn’t know its name, if it even had one.  It seemed that Rose was up for some light grave robbing, and she was doing well so far- picking a night with good light, dark clothes would show dirt stains poorly, and the fact that all the graves seemed a little worse for wear- Samuel’s had even been smashed- meant that nobody would come visiting.  Much better organized than their own attempt, although admittedly it was a bit illegal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s grave went first, revealing a bone.  Mary’s revealed a lockbox, with the clues from the other graves.  Rose input the code, and revealed a piercer.  It broke open the slab over Albert’s grave and revealed another bone.   Ida’s also produced a bone, and so did Samuel’s and James’s.  Then she turned to the open grave and poured the bones inside.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a bit of time, but Rose put together all the bones, producing a single fully intact skeleton.  She leaned over the skull, and watched as the jaw dropped, revealing a gold timepiece.  She picked it up and put it on, letting it settle, as though it hadn’t sung of creeping dread to Aldous and himself.  But it suited her, the small pop of color going well with her otherwise monotone outfit.  The frame appeared, and William faded, somewhat giddy.  So close- only one more sacrifice to go!</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. The Last Dance.  Spring 1933</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun was just rising over the horizon, and Frank and Rose were standing in the middle of one of the old rooms.  The wallpaper was fading, and it had some old, suspicious stains.  Both were as they always were, Frank clean-shaven and hair cropped short, keeping his clothes neat as he hadn’t been able to for years; Rose, hair back but beginning to flake loose, black clothing made out of old laboratory smocks and whatever else she could manage, wrapped up to her neck like there was something wrong with her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>William was tired.  They had the timepieces, all they were waiting on was one last sacrifice, but so much had already happened.  He started unlocking the puzzle cabinet, face after face sliding away into somewhere and a new one replacing it.  Inside was an album, the casing declaring it to be ‘The Vanderboom’s Family Time’.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The album went on the phonograph, its odd wailing back-and-forth making a background to the pair, slowly dancing back and forth across the floor.  When their dance was finished, Rose held up a key.  The music stopped, which was a relief to William, as that song brought back old memories of a time when there were three generations alive, alive and making music instead of pain.  The key unlocked a cabinet, where a dress lay folded on top of a second album- the Lake Suite.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This song was much more upbeat, and as Rose returned from changing into the dress, it did seem like a sign- that things were melancholy now, but they could perk up soon.  Rose looked slightly odd without her heavy black layers, and the dress didn’t quite look like one that a normal woman would wear- far too revealing, no sleeves at all!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair danced, Rose still solemn but with a smile threatening to break loose, until the record snapped.  Perhaps the song was a warning, then.  The phonograph had broken with the record, the needle popping free.  William took the needle and gave it to Rose, who stabbed her finger, letting the blood run down her hand as the final sacrifice.  It would be collected.  The frame appeared around the trickle down her palm, and William faded, excited to truly live once more.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright, that's the last for today.  Christmas morning my time, you're getting the last two chapters- the final chapter, and the 'prequel', as a sort of present.  Enjoy!</p><p>Leave a comment, tell me what you liked!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Roots.  Spring 1935</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The three cousins were in the lab, which seemed different.  His own portrait was on one wall, along with Samuel’s clock.  Rose was next to the clock, while Leonard and Frank were flanking the doorway.  Long tendrils of roots were winding all around, but didn’t seem hostile yet.  William collected the timepieces, noting absently as he did so that behind Frank was a line of photos and drawings, marking out the sacrifices while noting each with a letter, and in some cases, a number.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heading through the archway, the three squares seemed different.  The first one, the one for the bronze timepiece, now said ‘The Alchemist Brothers’.  The second, ‘The Crow and the Dead Man’.  Where the first had the two standing there, the second had a large crow and a corrupted shade.  The third was most similar to its past, saying ‘Samsara’ but showing a tree, bare of leaves, and a woman holding a bundle.  The woman was in dark clothing, and seemed to speak of Rose.  All three timepieces opened, showing two forty-five.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to the main room, William was taken aback by the fact that Leonard and Frank were now bound by roots, their eyes wide and blank.  Rose was untouched, and simply watched him as he turned the hands of the clock to the time from the watches.  The clock opened, and Rose climbed in, still staring as roots wrapped around her, staring at him without judgement or mercy until the door slammed closed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gate slid open, revealing nine of the ten sacrifices waiting on the pistons.  It appeared he’d have to do some swapping.  From the pictures, he saw the hair was at three, and the eyes would be the same weight… Eventually, he had the nine from the nine family members who’d given something for him.  Then William returned to the other room, using the letters from the pictures and the numbers from the other room to unlock the cabinet.  Inside was the jar with his heart and the saying ‘Balance the substance of your past lives’.  The heart was placed into its spot, the only one left, and root tendrils appeared.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each tendril sucked up a sacrifice and the liquid it was floating in- except for the two liquid sacrifices, but even they had liquid to keep them in their natural state and not congeal or evaporate.  Then William felt himself rise- or perhaps the platform was sinking- or perhaps it was both.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roots twisted and tangled past, humming happily.  Eventually, he found himself in an odd place, that seemed like space but also not.  Each of the sacrifices was absorbed into his shadowy form, changing quickly from shadowy figure to old man and back.  When the last sacrifice was absorbed, he stopped growing, and ended up as a tiny infant.  Suddenly, images simply started flashing around him.  The tree, but the fence behind it collapsing.  The clock ticking forwards.  The tree, leaves falling.  The clock ticking faster.  A few lone leaves falling over a view of the Lake, and Rose walking out of it, a tiny baby wrapped in an oddly familiar blanket- it looked like the dress Rose had worn for that dance.  Then he felt himself seep into the infant, fading and twisting in and around himself until he was no more than a tiny kernel of memories and soul.  The frame appeared one last time, around the dress blanket, and William settled in.  It was good to be alive again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alrighty!  If you don't actually know what goes on in this game, this is the end of the actual canon series of events!  I've tried to stay as close to chronological as I can, if I made a mistake, please let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. The Elixir.  Spring 1860</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>William stood, watching Aldous.  He was holding a shot glass, ready and prepared as always.  He greeted you calmly, then showed that he had everything ready and the last step was you preparing the ingredients in the space you’d made.  On the family crest was an egg and a vial, the two things you’d need to create with this process.  It had been so long, and so much effort- so many dead ends, or ways you simply didn’t have the tools for, but you’d finally found a way.  Glass was easy enough- earth and fire, then air and air again, then fire once more- but the egg was more complicated.  Eventually though, he managed, and combined the egg and the glass in the tub.  Finally, you had the elixir.  William handed the elixir to Aldous, who offered it to him first.  William drank, making sure to leave enough for Aldous.  He gurgled, collapsing.  Did Aldous know?  Had he betrayed you?  As William drifted out of his body, he grabbed a seed.  It was odd, to look at his own body, seeing it dead and curled up.  Aldous stared back at him, eyes blackened and weakened from experiments past- he could see clearly in the past, and he was good at finding things to push their research forwards, but he couldn’t read or even walk well.  He spoke.  ‘Don’t worry, we are always here in our past and future lives’.  He didn’t mean- he did.  He meant the Tree plan, one that they’d sworn only as a last resort- some of those sacrifices required death, and who knew if James would even take the option?   Aldous drank, head and hat suddenly replaced with the head of a crow.  His eyes were clear again, which made something in Willaim’s chest loosen- at least their crazy schemes hadn’t ruined Aldous forever.  Large wings unfolded from Aldous’s back, and he took the seed.  ‘The fate of Rusty Lake lies in this small seed.  I have to leave now, Mr. Owl needs me’.  It made sense, their mysterious research correspondent was odd, and it made sense that Aldous had other things to do- the Lake itself was interesting but guarded, as it was what set them on alchemy in the first place, and if he got the option to look further, then absolutely Aldous should take it.  But Aldous wasn’t ready to leave without comforting the bound shade of his brother.  ‘But we will meet again, in this life or the nest’.  An odd frame appeared around the seed in Aldous’ hand, and William felt himself fading from existence.  At first, he fought it, trying to remain on this plane of existence, but a wave of something washed over him, and he succumbed, letting the knowledge seep into him.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we're done!  In a few weeks, depending on my motivation and other writing ideas, we'll start with Cube Escape: The Cave, which I've been hearing excitement for!  After that comes Paradise, which is also exciting!  </p><p>Let me know what you thought, liked, ect. in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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